Being a Luthor
by Celli
Summary: Post-ep for Jitters: "Never hit a bald man on the head."


Being a Luthor  
by Celli Lane 

Feedback: Positive or negative both welcome. celli@fanfiction.net  
Category: Vignette; Post-ep to "Jitters"  
Rating: PG-13 for language  
Spoiler: Lots for "Jitters."  
Summary: This is Lex. This is Lex with a concussion. Any questions?  
Archiving: Primarily on my fic page, http://www.geocities.com/hcdoom/   
Otherwise, just let me know where so I can come visit it.  
Disclaimer: Smallville and its residents belong to Millar Gough Ink,   
Warner Brothers, DC Comics, and other assorted people with lawyers. Bummer. 

*** 

"Loneliness and the feeling of being unwanted is the most terrible   
poverty." - Mother Teresa 

*** 

Lex stood as still as possible while his father "hugged" him. Lex   
Luthor, human shield, he thought as Lionel waved the reporters off   
with the excuse--hell, the flat-out lie--of tending to his son. 

A thousand thoughts were running through his mind. How the hell had   
Clark pulled two grown men up onto that walkway? Adrenaline, my ass.   
How did his father and Clark's know each other? Neither had mentioned   
it before. Why had Clark been playing detective with those blueprints?   
What kind of green mist had they been using on Level Three, and how   
long before Chloe Sullivan found out about it and started pestering him   
for an interview? 

Mostly, though, the thoughts flew right past. He couldn't stop staring   
at the Kents. The way they felt about each other would have been   
obvious from Metropolis. Right now, if he could get away with it, he'd   
shove Clark off that walkway for a chance to replace him in the center   
of that parental embrace. 

And what did that say about Lex, that he had these thoughts about his   
best goddamn friend? 

Just then, his father's hand rubbed too close to the goose egg at the   
base of his head, and Lex's knees buckled. The pain and nausea that   
had been lurking around the edges, banished by the pure terror of his   
fall, came rushing back with a vengeance. 

"Okay, Dad." He shoved away and managed to stand on his own. Lionel   
would not see him fall. Not ever. "They got their photo op. You can   
go now." 

His father opened his mouth, but Lex just held up a hand. "I have a   
plant to run. And hostages to take care of. Go shake some hands, make   
some points, okay?" 

Lionel gave him a look that warned Lex clearly he'd hear of this again   
and stalked off to play charming to Gabe Sullivan. Lex noted in   
passing that Sullivan was still holding onto his daughter's hand as   
though he'd never let go. He looked away sharply--too sharply, setting   
off another round of banging in his head--and started towards the   
Kents. He had things he had to say. 

"Mr. and Mrs. Kent." He didn't offer a hand; he'd had enough rejection   
for one day. "I appreciate your support today." 

"We didn't do anything," Martha Kent said, both arms still firmly   
around her son. "You risked your life." 

"Clark saved my life." He met his friend's eyes as clearly as   
possible. If Clark could lie to him about, well, whatever, Lex could   
pretend he didn't want to be Clark. No one would ever know. "Thank   
you." 

"Are you kidding? You didn't know about--" Clark looked around,   
making sure no one was in earshot, and dropped his voice. "You didn't   
know about Level Three. You came in there knowing Earl would kill   
you." 

"I would've thought of something." He even managed a smirk. He could   
tell because Jonathan was looking at him with scorn again. 

"You were great in there, Lex." Clark clapped him on the shoulder, and   
the world around him went gray for a moment. 

"Whoa!" Clark said, grabbing Lex's arm to hold him upright. After a   
moment, Lex felt Martha's arm slipping around his waist. If it weren't   
so comforting, he'd be humiliated. 

"Lex?" she was asking. "What's wrong?" 

Clark looked grim. "Earl hit him over the head. I didn't know it was   
that bad--" 

"Never hit a bald guy on the head." Lex managed another half-smile.   
"I'm fine, really." 

Martha gave him one of those motherly looks she usually saved for   
Clark, and Lex felt irrationally happy. "You need medical attention,   
Lex." 

Jonathan's hand settled reluctantly onto Lex's back. "Let's get you   
over to the doctor--" 

"No, I want to make sure all the students are okay first." The doctors   
were fussing over Whitney right now, and Lex could see Lana and the   
jock's mother standing behind Whitney, looking concerned. He leaned a   
little more heavily against Martha. Her arm tightened around him, and   
he noticed briefly that she smelled like lemons before the act of   
smelling triggered another attack of nausea. "Where's my dad? Can't   
fall down if he's here." The world was beginning to look pleasantly   
fuzzy. "Hey, can I come home with you?" 

Everyone was looking at him very strangely. "What?" he asked   
defensively. 

"Nothing." Martha started guiding him towards the doctors. "I think   
they're done with Whitney now. Let's make sure they take care of your   
head. 

"Okay." He moved a few steps forward obediently, then stopped   
abruptly. "Clark? Know what?" 

"What?" Clark said from a very long way away. 

"I lied. To Earl. When I said I'd take him to Level Three." 

"I know. I was there." 

"I lied. But I did it for the right reasons. What does that make me?" 

"A good guy?" Clark suggested. 

"Nope." They started moving again. "Makes me a Luthor. Damn it." 

At that, his head cleared slightly, and he pushed against the arms   
holding him up. "No, it's okay. I can walk. Thank you." 

He was a Luthor, and no one was going to say he couldn't make it on his   
own. 

--the end-- 

Author's Notes: Special thanks to Chris, who sucked me into the fandom by writing "Runaway Trains at 3 AM," and Perri, who sucked me into Lex-worship by writing "Reasons Unknown." (What do you mean, you haven't read them yet? They're on my Favorite Stories page. Go! Go now! *g*) Also thanks to my Horsechickly beta readers, especially Lizbet who came up with the summary. And to Lowen & Navarro for writing the most cheerfully depressing music I know.


End file.
